


What happened in November

by MuddyInk



Category: South Park
Genre: Animal Death, Blood, Blood and Gore, Brutal Murder, Character Death, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, Demons, Gore, Horror, Imp Tweek Tweak, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Urban Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21681967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuddyInk/pseuds/MuddyInk
Summary: What happened in November? If you were to ask, the elders would tell you they do not know enough. If you were to ask the children, they would simply say their fathers died.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	What happened in November

It happened in November. The elders would say they did not know or understand the details around the thing that took place, would say they did not know anything of the sort. It was a rather closely guarded secret within the little town, only those alive when it occurred knowing or remembering. When the final elder fell to sickness or age, so with him would die the secret of November. 

The town is called South Park, a little mountain town in Colorado. The town itself seemed normal upon first glance, however strange that there were no hotels or motels available. It would be nearly untouched by the new age if it were not for the ruins of the modern society, left to crumble and decay, long forgotten. Tourists never stayed long, and if they tried they vanished without a trace. Authorities had stopped coming with investigations when it became clear no one would ever be found. If they let slip of going through the town, they would be advised to not linger. Some took this as a challenge, others felt perturbed and, rightfully, chose to drive through as quickly as possible. 

The town, again, while appearing normal to outsiders could not be farther from it. Strange things happened there, unexplainable things. Things that could very well defy everything humanity has known. Things are not perceived normally there either. Crime and murder, death. This is all normal and common in the town. Witches, celestials, talking animals, abominations, all is everyday occurrences to them. The occupants of the town are all descendants of original founders, and ones that move there whether knowing it or not, are distantly related to them. The town would not allow them to remain otherwise. 

The adults were secretive, close and had standoffish air about them. While they were kind, almost sickeningly so, people often felt the prickling feeling of danger on their skin and in their minds. A primal instinct to run, having to be shoved deep down to control. 

The children of the town were unsettling. Obscene and vulgar, often quite cruel. Pranks taken to the extreme causing death, injury, mental scarring. The children were perhaps one of the most terrifying aspects of the town as they felt it all a game to them. Nothing was too horrifying, no act unspeakable. They did not know that the things happening there did not happen anywhere else. They learned not to trust anyone, even their closest friends, as anyone could turn on you in an instant. They relished in torment. Most of the towns bloodshed was on their tiny hands. The adults sometimes even seemed fearful of their own children and as such, they received anything they desired within reason. But what is reason in a town as backwards as this? Maybe that is why the elders were not surprised when it occurred. They had not taught the children what was forbidden. 

At first it hadn’t been noticed. Cats and dogs going missing, turning up later in the woods. They thought it was perhaps the crab people, or some other manner of creature hunting. People were urged to keep their pets indoors and that seemed to stop the deaths, but then the tourists started vanishing. More than before. Tourists didn’t have to stay the night in the town to go missing, simply going to use a bathroom in a gas station and they would be gone. That was when parents started keeping their children closer. A curfew enacted upon them to keep them safe. This did not, of course, stop them from sneaking out. The adults never tried to truly in force the curfew as none of the townsfolk had been harmed and death was not uncommon. 

Life went on but tourists still vanished. The authorities got suspicious and came poking around. Too many people going missing to not intervene lest the public catch on they were ignoring it. Interrogations on the adults were performed but nothing was discovered. It was all the same. They simply vanished into thin air. When no one could provide answers a search team was brought in to check the woods and drag the pond, now looking for bodies. While they found all manor of creature and drug, no human corpses could be recovered, and after a week the search had to be called off. 

The disappearances stopped for a while after the police left and the townspeople began to relax thinking it was finally over. Just another thing to be added to the ever growing collection of unsolved mysteries they had. The children were kept out of it. 

The air was turning crisp and adopted a chill to it reaching the elders bones. Leaves began to turn orange and fall from their posts of branches, sprinkling the ground and leaving crunching under foot. October. The events of the previous months being forgotten in favor of preparing for the holiday, the children attempting to show each other up with their spooky tricks and pranks, the townsfolk failed to notice when one of the children started acting differently. The child in question was a young boy with pale blonde hair and a scar over his left eye. His parents, ever abusive and neglectful, certainly didn't. 

Maybe it had been because the child was already jumpy, but while fearful he had always been eager to please and make friends. Perhaps they felt relieved that he no longer pursued friendship. Most did find him annoying. It happened over the month after the deaths stopped. Dark circles become present under his eyes, the tuft of blonde hair becoming disheveled. While being underfed most his life and rather small for his age, he never truly looked malnourished, however as time passed even his cheeks seemed to become gaunt and sunken in. He started to withdraw from his ‘friends' and close in on himself. Sitting alone at lunch poking at his food, sleeping in class. He became visibly more paranoid, head snapping up at the smallest of sounds, eyes flitting about as if searching for someone. 

What should have been obvious was overlooked and ignored. The boy had clearly needed help, but the entire town failed or didn’t care to provide it. Still, even as it had been, it came as a shock when the child went missing. At first presumed run away, but taking into account the many missing tourists they had to add a possibility the child had been taken. Still they waited as he had return before, but when three days passed and no sign of the boy a search party was sent. 

The child could not be located, and parents held their young tightly at night, staring out at the darkened streets hoping and praying their children would be safe. Spared from the evil haunting the town. 

In mid September when the trees were stripped of most their leaves, left to rot on the earth, the townsfolk decided to drag the pond again for a shoe had been found. Deep in the underbrush the child’s bloody shoe had been found, the foot not far away. The foot itself was decayed, writhing with maggots and fluid. The shoe confirmed by the parents to be his, and the townsfolk once again fell into an intense dark silence. 

It was quiet when they drug the pond, the townsfolk collectively holding their breaths. Truth be told none of them expected to find anything as so far no bodies had been recovered. That is why when the shout came they were horrified and shocked. When they pulled his body out and lay him on the grass it was clear he had been in there for a very long time. Translucent blue skin sloshing off his waterlogged corpse, his bloated face barely recognizable. Water plants winding around what was left of his limbs, all the flesh on his fingers missing no doubt consumed by the fish life in the pond. His face, though, was by far the worst part. Bloated and water logged, a large hole completely through his cheek showing off his teeth. His mouth wide open in a silent scream empty eye sockets open wide in horror. Something moved in the boys socket and a police officer vomited as a craw fish wormed it's way out flopping with a wet squelch onto his face. 

The mother of the child was devastated, a screaming mess inconsolable. She had to be taken to hospital when she attacked her husband. The father showed nothing. His face completely devoid of any emotion. It was speculated among the children that he was The one who killed his son. 

The funeral was small, close casket. No one needed to see that face again. Few were there, even fewer spoke out, meaningless words from people who never bothered to know him. Never bothered to care. The boys father was not there, currently in a jail cell to be questioned more about the circumstance around his sons kidnapping and murder. A person of interest with no alibi for the day he was taken. 

Nothing ever came of it however. The townsfolk rejected him as their own after though, fully believing he was at fault. If not for the murder but for the intense neglect he inflicted upon the poor boy. The children of the town had many theories as to what happened, each one more absurd than the last. Manbearpig was quite the common topic. 

The town once being ripped apart. No one could decide what they wanted to believe, what they wanted to be done. Shouted accusations in public, if they so much as looked at another’s offspring the parent would very nearly snarl. School was closed down for the time being due to the high amount of parents keeping their children home. A few families had packed up and left, either to stay with family or tot move, and others were preparing to follow after them. Fear was growing every day that the killer was not found. By the beginning of November the town was essentially ghost by how empty the streets were. All shops closed down or boarded up. 

Something settled over the town the first day of November. The calm before the storm some said. Pushing deep into the hearts of the inhabitants of South Park was the undeniable feeling of dread and foreboding. They all knew the worst was yet to come. 

There had always been one church in South Park. A rather small one located on the edge of the town, very close to where the body had been dumped. It was your average catholic church, with pews and an alter, various religious objects and crosses. The priest was a nice enough man, respected among the community. The sun was just setting on the horizon when the screaming began. 

Piercing guttural screams, far more animal than human. Parents covered their children’s ears and no one willing to go investigate the noise. Those unfortunate enough to be near when the screams began had to bear witness to the sickening squelching and crunching of what could only be the poor priests unfortunate demise. When the screams died down and all became quiet again and small group of respected men collected together to form a plan. They would take guns and blades to the church and hope to trap or kill whatever may be inside, hopefully feasting on the fresh corpse of Father Maxi. 

Rifles and revolvers passed around the group, loaded and prepared. When they approached the church they first took notice of the chanting. The voice was in another language none could truly understand, speaking just loud enough to be heard through the partially opened doors of the chapel. The next thing they noticed was the strong smell of copper, and how the air was both warm and cold, progressively getting hotter the closer to the doors they got. One man had stupidly reached out to grasp the door, push it open, but instead pulled away clutching his arm with a pained yip. The chanting did not cease so when the men felt safe enough to check on their comrade they were horrified to see the skin on his hand already red and blistered from the heat of the door. One man staying behind to help and using the gun barrel to open the door rather than the hand the men were able to see inside the church. 

Guns raised they crept into the building, eyes on the dark figure at the front of the chapel. Short, maybe five foot tall, standing outside bloody drawing on the floor surrounded by candles and books. As they got closer they saw the drawing was a pentagram with strange foreign symbols around it. The man clearly heard them enter but continued to ignore them in favor of the chant. A ritual they realized. One man, Mr. Stevens, stepped up having had enough. Right as the man finished his chant, temperature in the room raising another 5 degrees, Mr. Stevens grabbed the man swinging him around and pointing his revolver at his forehead. When the man was so violently turned his cloak fell back revealing his face and they all came to the same discovery. The man was no man at all, but rather a child. A young boy no older than twelve. He had deep black hair and blue eyes, a delicate face almost doll like in appearance. The type of boy that drew attention with his looks but would never be suspected of crime. They would have believed him innocent if not for what they had witnessed, and for the blood on his hands. Gun still raised, Mr. Stevens demands the boy come with them or he'll shoot. None of them notice the pentagram has begun to glow red. 

The boy simply smiles and shakes his head, as if he knows the answer to everything, and suddenly there is that tingling in the head. A feeling they should follow this boy willingly for he is a leader. Alas no, they must take him for the greater good. They know this boy, but last time they saw his family was before the killings began. Thomas and Laura's boy, Craig. His mother was nice enough but his father was a known drunk, his kids and wife often showing up with bruises and scars or busted up lips and noses. They pitied the boy but they let them have their business as it were. Private. Never did they think that one of the abused trio would truly snap this way. They knew his family must already be dead as well for him to be here like this. 

It didn’t matter anymore then what they did for in that moment the ritual complete and in the blinding red light and flames burst forth a creature of darkness. With a cackle unlike any they had heard before the thing raised its head and glared down at them. The creature looked mostly normal on the top half of its body, a green dress shirt messily buttoned over a human chest. The arms and face were normal too but that’s where it ends. Nestled in the things wild blond hair were two dangerous sharp red horns, going down its eyes were crimson and it's teeth sharp like a sharks no doubt able to tear a person so shreds with little effort. Long elf like ears protrude from the sides of the things head and its hands, rather than normal fingers instead ended in sharp blackened claws. Where legs should be were instead fur covered animal legs ending in shining black hooves. At the base of it’s back a long tail ending in a spade point, rested. Large red and black wings unfurled from it’s back, and it bared its sharpened teeth, stepping protectively in front of the Tucker child. 

The Tucker and the thing met each others eyes for a moment and the boys face exploded in color as a simple name slipped out of his lips, barely above a whisper , but they heard it all the same. The Tweek demon summoned a horrible red pitchfork with a snap of his fingers and a burst of fire, lunging forth upon the unsuspecting cowering men. Blood and entrails spattered the walls and floor, drenching the demon and child, but they looked to not care less. With the final man pinned under the demons hooved foot, squirming and whimpering like a pathetic worm the boy told him to stop. The demon had looked questioning at the child while he explained, someone will need to tell the story. Amusement shone on the things face but nonetheless he stepped off the man. 

The man, Randy Marsh, shooting one last fearful look at the Tweek demon shot out the door. That is the extent they knew of what happened inside the church for after Randy fled to safety the demon took the child into the night. 

When Randy got the townsfolk together and tried to explain what happened between gasping breaths and sobs the most they got out was ‘church' and ‘demon'. Disbelieving, the people went into the church to see the horror. They did not find a demon but did find the carnage. Several people vomited or fainted, some others running out. Inside the building remained the proof of the ‘fight' between the mortals and the demon. Intestines crushed and splattered, hanging over pews or on the floor, various other entrails lay in shredded heaps and the overwhelming scent of copper hung in the air suffocating and wet. The blood would surely never wash out, as the entire body amount of perhaps 8 men lay seeping into the carpets and wood. Though it was hard to tell with all the pieces how many bodies there truly were. Half a brain was crushed and sliding down a wall, the rest visible in the split open decapitated head of Mr. Steven’s, his spinal column out and still attached to his head. The rest of his body no doubt joining in the pieces of the dead. The walls so red it could have been mistaken for the original color, like bloody curtains in the hall of the lord. Tainted. 

Poor Randy got lucky that some of the elders heard what happened before they left and had thankfully seen the demon fly away with the Tucker boy, else he might have been wrongly arrested a tried for the murder of his friends. Traumatized as he may be, he did not fail to hug his family tightly. Even his daughter, ever stoic, was in tears at the prospect of almost losing her father. 

Entering the Tucker home greeted with a sight far less gruesome than that of the church. The mother, Laura, dead in her bed pillow next to her. Suffocation. The Father, Thomas, in the kitchen with a blade sticking out of his skull. That left the littlest Tucker and they all were preparing for the worst. After all, who could kill a child, only seven years of age. However as it turns out, Craig could not kill his sister. They found her in the basement, near catatonic, but alive. Taken to hospital she proved to be unharmed physically, but mentally no one could be certain she would ever recover. 

They chose to tear the church down and rebuild it, and to permanently close the Tucker home. Too many unspeakable acts had happened in these places to pretend as if they had not occurred. The children did not understand why Tricia and Craig would not be returning to school, but after shouts and seeing the fearful looks on their parents faces, decided to drop the topics. Of course this still allowed their theories and rumors but they would never know the truth. 

Many children were left without father's that day, something they would never truly understand. The elders knew it was cruel to keep it from them, but it would be worse to let them know of the thing that took them away. The thing they allowed to escape. So, when asked what happened in November a dark look will come into their eye, and they will look to the sky. As the adults of that time are old now, and know their time will come soon they can only hope they are correct in believing they are sparing their children. Only one elder truly knew what happened that night but his mind had long since gone, with the death of his wife to pneumonia so too went his youth. Aged and grey in Shady Acres retirement community, staring out the window and speaking of nothing that makes sense. While the rest know what happened, they cannot say they understand. They cannot say they were there or that everything is okay now. This is why they choose to keep secret. 

Strange things happen in South Park, but don't go searching for what happened in November. You might uncover something so dark and twisted it will consume your mind and take you away like Tricia Tucker. No one will ever know what happened to Craig Tucker or why he did what he did. Maybe he just got tired of the pain his father inflicted. Maybe he was manipulated by the demon. Maybe he just fell in love. Maybe it's all three. We will never receive the true reasons, and there is no point in searching. Some things are better left unknown.


End file.
